


Whatever he wants

by Morgane (smilla840)



Series: Need/Want [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, M/M, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next morning, Sam predicably freaks out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever he wants

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 'Whatever he needs'. 
> 
> Mention of non-con, as that is how Sam (incorrectly) interprets what happened.

Sam wakes up gradually. His eyes are gritty and his skin feels too tight on his face. His head is pounding and he just wants to go back to sleep but he is too uncomfortable, still wearing his clothes from the day before – and the ones before that, he thinks –, and when he wets his lips he tastes salt.

There is also a distinctly warm body next to him – Dean, his mind supplies immediately, and that in itself is unusual. Because he doesn't make it a habit to cuddle next to his brother in his sleep – hasn't for at least fifteen years, in fact.

Then his brain fully connects all the dots and flashes of Maddy's teary face, smiling bravely at him as he squeezes the trigger – God he killed her, he _killed_ her! – mingles with Dean's under him, Dean's as Sam rubs himself against him and makes him – makes him...

He is going to be sick.

He pushes himself away from his brother, almost toppling over and crashing on the floor but Dean's hand shoots out and pulls him back. The sudden movement sends him sprawling on top of his brother and for a second all Sam can do is stare – Dean looks like hell. In fact, he looks like he hasn't slept in days, like that time in Oklahoma when Dad got sick, and considering the week they’ve had so far it's probably the truth too. Then Sam remembers – skin and salt and his brother's solid body against his – and wrenches himself away, stumbling towards the bathroom. 

He locks himself in and breaks down.

It's too much. It's all too much. There is Maddy, dead, dead because he killed her and because he couldn't save her, beautiful brave Maddy who hadn't known what she had been doing, another victim of Evil.

And then there is Dean. God, Dean. He had sex with his brother. He made his brother have sex with him. That's... that's rape, isn't it? Because Dean didn't even get hard, that much he remembers, and Sam begged him, fucking begged him, and he knows full well what happens when he begs. Dean caves in, just like he did last night. Even if he hadn't wanted to – and let's face it, there is no way he would have because they're brothers for God's sake and it's just too fucked up for words – he would have done it anyway. And did.

What the fuck is wrong with Dean anyway? Why didn't he stop him? Why did he let Sam put his hand on his dick and _why_ didn't he stop him?

The answer is all too easy to see and Sam knows he won't be able to blame his brother for this one. His fault, his own damn fault. 

How is he supposed to look Dean in the eyes now? How is he supposed to… do anything around Dean, really?

 

He doesn't know how much time he spends in the bathroom, his unwilling mind going over the events of the previous day again and again until Maddy's blood mixes with the taste of Dean's skin.

It's a knock on the door that finally forces him out of his head.

"What?" he calls out weakly.

"We got to go," Dean answers and Sam nods to himself. Right. Time to get out of there.

Cautiously he opens the door. Their bags are packed and Dean is waiting patiently for him. There is no condemnation on his face that Sam can see before he ducks his head and resolutely refuses to meet his brother's eyes. He hears a sigh escape Dean's lips and still won't look up. Instead he grabs the closest bag and heads for the door, eager for the escape.

Dean follows.

 

They drive all day, a stony silence in the car only broken by Dean's attempts at a 'conversation' – and was the situation different Sam would probably think it was funny. Dean doesn't seem angry with him though, or even weirded out, and Sam thinks it only makes it worse.

When Dean looks like he is about to drop and drive them off the road, Sam remembers Dean hasn't slept in days and takes over.

With Dean asleep next him and the monotony of the endless road in front of him, Sam finds himself at the mercy of his thoughts. Dean's hand on him, and coming, and God it felt so _good_ and he wants to do it again and... that thought stops him right there. He is going to be sick. He _is_ sick. That's the only explanation. 

In the end he pulls over at a motel and Dean instantly wakes up when the car stops moving.

"You okay?" are the first words out of his mouth, and Sam only grunts in answer before going to check them in. 

Dean is out of the car and stretching when Sam comes back with the key and he has to force himself not to look at the patch of skin it reveals. There is something very wrong with him.

"So, I was thinking..." Dean starts when they've settled in – and, in Dean's case, deposited a couple of weapons strategically around to his bed – and Sam tenses. "Maybe we should take a break from hunting for a couple of weeks. You know, with... Madison…"

Terror floods Sam at the thought of being stuck some place for days with _Dean_. And Dean is trying to do the right thing, to get him time to grieve, and that must mean he is concerned. On any other day, Sam would bask in the feeling – Dean is so closed off sometimes – but definitely not today.

"I'm fine," he says shortly and drops on his bed.

Dean snorts but Sam ignores him, pulling the sheets up to his chin and closing his eyes.

Dean leaves him be.

*

Well, that went about as well as he had thought it would, Dean thinks as he watches Sam pretend to sleep.

The moment Sam had woken up that morning, Dean had known he was going to be difficult. And maybe it's his fault. After all, it's _Sam_. There was no way he was going to see what happened as 'natural'. And maybe it’s not, but Dean doesn’t care – they already have their fair share of unnatural in their life, what’s a little more?

The whole day had been a nightmare. Sam had ignored him, shooting down all his attempts to 'talk' – and let it never be said again that Dean can't do sensitive like the best of them. It's not his fault Sam wasn't in the mood. Bitch.

And now Sam is pretending everything is 'fine', despite the fact he won't look Dean in the eye. Well, if he wants to play it that way, _fine_. And no, that's not disappointment Dean is feeling. There is a nasty spirit in Michigan that needs their attention anyway.

 

Later Dean wakes up to Sam's screams and he is on his feet before he has fully shaken the sleep off his eyes, his gun searching a target. But it's just a nightmare – there's going to be plenty of those in the future and Dean once again berates himself for not killing the girl himself. He should never have let Sam do it, damn it.

"Sam, wake up," he says loudly. Sam's eyes snap open and he looks around wildly, expecting to see... something.

Dean extends an arm towards him to offer some meagre comfort but Sam flinches and Dean jerks his hand back before it can make contact, trying hard to keep his face impassive.

That'll teach him to try and help.

*

After getting rid of the spirit, they hit South Carolina and then turn east. There is a semblance of normality between them again – not one of their best though, since everything is still 'fine' and Sam's not talking. When he isn't being meek and looking guilty, he blows up for the smallest things and then gets a stricken look on his face and goes back to not talking.

Dean is starting to find it slightly – okay, a lot – annoying. He didn't do anything to deserve that, he decides, and if Sam doesn't wisen up soon he'll just tie him to the bed and fuck some sense into him, consequences be damned. They'd both enjoy it too.

Because yeah, okay, he had promised himself to go by his brother’s wishes on this one but what they have right now just can’t go on.

The nightmares have faded though, and Sam looks less haunted. He doesn't stare at the moon anymore, and he has stopped wincing every time he has to handle a gun. Dean thinks maybe that means he's mourned Madison, and he'll get back to normal soon. 

He doesn't. Because there is still the 'other' problem, the one about sex and Sam can't seem to get past that. Dean figures it's only a matter of time – hopefully. And maybe it would help Sam if _he_ was freaking out too, except he isn’t because Dean is a practical kind of guy. There will never be anyone more important than his brother in his life, that’s just the way things are. And he also loves sex. Ergo, sex with his brother. Not that farfetched, is it?

There is one thing though. One thing that is worrying Dean a great deal and that's that Sam isn't being as careful as he should be. And really it won't help at all if Sam gets himself killed because he can’t deal with this. So he yells at him the first time it happens and Sam looks properly chastened and Dean figures he has gotten his point across.

He still keeps an eye on him though because for a college boy Sam can be pretty stupid sometimes.

It turns out it's a good thing he does too because two hunts later, lost in the middle of fucking Wisconsin, Sam gets reckless again.

And when Sam gets reckless Dean is the one who gets hurt. The poltergeist is pissed off, Sam isn’t paying attention, distracted by whatever is going on in his head and he doesn’t see the knife coming at him until it slams into Dean who just shoved him out of the way.

Later, when the bones are salted and burned, Dean’s wound patched up and hurting like a son of a bitch, Dean’s just about had enough. He slams his hand down, making Sam jump and look at him guiltily _again_ before looking away abruptly when their eyes make contact.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re taking a break. Right now.”

Sam looks mutinous for a moment before his shoulders slump and Dean knows he won’t argue anymore. Well, _finally_. 

*

A few days later Dean is starting to regret his insistence they lay low for a while. How long is a while, anyway? Because he doesn't know how much more of this he can take. Strangely, he finds that he misses his brother.

At least, when they were stuck in the car, Sam was _there_. 

And since Dean has never been one to deal with frustration well, he plans.

It's Day Five of the 'pause', and almost a month after... 'it'. Dean makes some stupid joke that would usually have Sam snort in disgust and shake his head fondly, but there is nothing. Sam's face is a blank and Dean can tell he is about to head for the door and disappear for the rest of the day. Again.

He can't allow that.

He crosses the room to stand in front of the door, and sure enough Sam gets a cornered look on his face, starting to look for exits.

Part of Dean feels pleased. Since his brother seems to think his presence is so distasteful, he will suffer it a little longer.

"So Sammy..." he drawls out and Sam winces at the nickname. Good. Make him mad, then maybe he'll show some emotion. "Where do you go every day?"

He knows very well where Sam goes – they’re here because Sam isn't in his right mind and Dean isn't about to let him go off on his own without making sure he isn't doing anything stupid – and that's _nowhere_. He just walks around, sits down and stares at nothing. When it starts to get dark, he rouses himself and goes back to their small place, and Dean always makes sure he is there first.

Dean takes a step towards his brother, predatory, and Sam predictably takes a step back. So Dean takes another, then another, until Sam's back hits the wall and he is definitely looking hunted now. 

Good, that's good.

"We're talking about this, Sammy," Dean says, his breath caressing Sam's face and he feels his brother shudder against him. So... _that_ 's one part of the problem. And one easily remedied to. They need this. They both do. And Dean wants it too. If Sam would just see reason…

"Dean…" Sam's voice trails off as he frantically tries to think of something, anything, that would get him out of this situation – something that doesn't involve shoving Dean out of the way, because it would involve touching Dean and that's a big 'no-no'.

"What is it, Sammy? Got something to say now?" Dean's hand comes up to rest on the wall next to Sam's head as he shifts closer.

"Please..." Whether Sam means 'stop' or 'don't stop' is anyone's guess, and Dean knows which one he is going to go with. His other hand fiddles with the buttons of Sam's shirt as he lets his fingers trail lower, oh so light and playful.

"Stop. God, stop," Sam begs and Dean doesn't. It's his turn to make a point.

"Why?"

"Because... it's wrong. Fuck, Dean... we're _brothers_ , we can't!"

"We already have. And I don't care."

Dean's lips ghost Sam's skin and Sam whimpers. He wants this, Dean can tell. But will he let himself have it?

"We both want it. What's the harm?"

Sam tries to think of something, anything, but he can't think with Dean so close, so temptingly close and _touching_ him. All his brain can process is that Dean wants this, wants him, and all the angst he has been going through in the past month has been for nothing because Dean actually, genuinely _wants_ him.

And God, he wants Dean too.

Giving in, he surges forward to meet Dean's lips, pouring everything he has, everything he is in the kiss. 

And it's everything they need. And everything they want.


End file.
